I was sure that my sister's cry could mean but one thing—that the tramp had made a raid on the house. I was thoroughly alarmed, and ran with all possible speed in the direction of the dining-room, from whence the sound proceeded.
As I tore across the lawn, regardless of the bed of flowers which was Mrs. Canby's pride, Kate's cry was repeated, this time in a more intense tone. An instant later I dashed across the porch and into the room through the door that, as I have said, stood wide open.
I found my sister standing in the middle of the floor, holding in her hand a heavy umbrella with which she had evidently been defending herself. She was pale, and trembled from head to foot.
"What is it, Kate?" I exclaimed. "Where is the fellow?"
"Oh, Roger!" she gasped. "I'm so glad you've come. A tramp was here—he robbed—robbed the desk—the window&—"
She pointed to the open window on the opposite side of the room. Then her breast heaved, the umbrella slipped from her grasp, and she sank into a chair.
"Are you hurt?" I cried anxiously.
"No, no—but the money—it is gone! What will Mrs. Canby say?"
And overcome with the dreadful thought, my sister fainted dead away.
As for myself I felt sick at heart. John Stumpy had been there—the widow's money had been stolen. What could be done?